


Past, Present, Future

by LumaBoop



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Animus, Dream Sex, Dreams, Fluff, M/M, Memories, fantasies, out of body experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumaBoop/pseuds/LumaBoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Animus dive leaves Desmond temporarily comatose, but Rebecca managed to record and decode what his mind had gone through during the Animus error. Memories of his ancestors and their loved ones... or perhaps memories that never truly took form.</p><p>Dreams, perhaps?<br/>As dirty as these dreams are, Shaun's willing to bet they're actually fantasies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 "It shouldn't take you this bloody long to de-fragment a month's worth of recorded footage."

"Don't give me a hard time right now, Shaun… please?" Rebecca frowned heavily as she worked tirelessly over her mini screen.

"Do pardon me if I'd like to know what the hell kept Desmond in that contraption of yours well beyond the safety limitations Lucy placed for him. For all we know, we could have lost him!"

"Shaun!" Lucy shouted, walking between the two of them. The room silenced; the tapping on Rebecca's keyboard ceasing. The stagnant air lifted, if only for a second.

Taking a soft breath, Lucy sat down half way upon the Animus 2.0, rubbing her forehead. "Look, we're all just a little rattled right now. Between getting set up here in this new safe house without being killed by Templars and the Animus crashing during near perfected synchronization with Ezio, we're at our wits end. But that's no excuse to be biting at each other. So let's all just take a minute to stop and think on the positives that have happened through this. Number one?"

After a minute of trying to find a positive out of all of this confusion, Rebecca tentatively spoke. "We managed to get Desmond out of the Animus before he suffered too much of the Bleeding Effect."

"Alright good…"

"More like a 'saving grace' than a positive."

"Shaun! I swear…"

"I'm being realistic here Lucy. If we had lost Desmond, I-I… WE would have lost the one thing we're risking our lives over right now. Everything would have been for naught."

"Well, then, it's a good thing we got him out. Alright, what have you managed to decode so far, Rebecca?"

"Well, so far, all I've managed to do is code everything into BlueRay quality video. Got some weird footage, actually. We managed to gather a lot of information about Ezio when Desmond went in there last month, but when we got to a certain point of Ezio's memory, that's when the Animus crashed and kept Desmond inside. Everything was going smoothly up until then.”

"Wait just a moment. You said that you just coded something into BlueRay quality video… what exactly did you decode if the Animus crashed a month ago?" Shaun inquired, leaning forward in his chair.

"That's the strange thing. It's as if the Animus was still recording while 'crashed'. We couldn't see what was going on, but Desmond probably could and so could that 'end' of the Animus. That's my theory anyway." Rebecca frowned, looking back at the footage. "And even now, I can't really watch this footage. It's in black and white in some parts, color in others, and on top of that, all of the footage is blurred despite the quality. I can't make anything out when I watch it. Plus, it didn't translate from the original Italian… and I'm not good with romantic languages."

"I don't know much Italian either…"

"Oh god, you're all a bunch of unilingual Yankees."

"Hey, I know Arabic fluently." Rebecca huffed, crossing her arms.

"Yes, yet you can't speak a lick of Italian. I know Italian; I'll watch the bloody thing after you're finished fixing the quality."

"Alright, but that's what's taking me so long. Video editing isn't my forte, so it's taking forever to focus the video without losing the decoding. It's as if the memory is doing its damnest not to be known." Rebecca frowned, going back to work.

"A… secret memory?" Lucy whispered, rubbing her cheek.

Shaun reflected on this as well. "I thought that the Animus was designed to reveal all ancestral memory available, Lucy."

"That's the theory, but, as the generations thin out more and more, less memory is retained through DNA and, if one stays to the theory, the more along the generation you are, the harder it is to regain memories from older lineages. It was a miracle to get as much as we did on Altair, to be honest, because it was such a far back memory. That's why I picked Ezio; not just because of his connection to Subject 16, but because it was a lineage much closer than Altair's."

"All of that makes sense, but then why is it just as hard to get these missing memories from Ezio as it is from Altair right now?" Rebecca murmured, her fingers ceasing upon the keyboard.

"Perhaps they're memories that Ezio didn't want anyone to know about. Altair also probably had memories that he didn't want anyone else to know, but at the time, Altair's memories weren't being searched as hard as Ezio's is." Lucy analyzed, standing back up.

"True skeletons in the closet, eh?" Shaun scoffed.

"But even if these were secrets kept from society, Desmond –and us looking through Desmond- should have still been able to see them through Ezio's eyes… W-wait a minute."

The room's air thinned.

"That's… why the Animus seemed to crash. It's so we wouldn't be able to see it. Even Desmond might not had been able to truly see it--It's that hidden of a memory that not even the Animus was allowed to breach it." Lucy declared, turning around to behold the Animus as if it were a new machine. "Or… the Animus simply wasn't able to clearly record it because it's so deeply embodied into Ezio."

"And that's why the video is so fuzzy! It's almost as if the Animus was censoring the last memories that we were trying to pry out of Ezio. But my baby still managed to record something, which means that it's STILL better than the templar Animus."

"Yes yes, you can stop playing ‘hubby and wife’ with your machine there." Shaun huffed, rolling his eyes. "And this still brought us no closer to figuring out how to wake Desmond up. Ever since we managed to get him out of the Animus safely, he's been sleeping." The worry was hidden in Shaun's speech as he looked over to the bedroom where Desmond was currently resting.

Lucy smiled sadly, resting a strong hand over Shaun's shoulder. "Now that he's out, it may take a while for him to adjust subconsciously. Who knows what he's been watching, or not watching, for nearly a month? I'm just glad that he didn't turn into another Subject 16. Let's let him rest for another few days, and then worry about him. For now, we need to know exactly what the Animus recorded while it was 'crashed'. We need to squeeze as much information from his ancestors as possible. Even memory fragments that seem useless may provide clues. So Rebecca, continue to tinker with the video editing. I'll be helping you with that as well."

"So I just sit here and twiddle my thumbs?"

"If you REALLY want something to do Shaun, you can contact the other Assassins and let them know that Desmond is stabilized. And then coddle him if you want." Lucy smirked, sitting next to Rebecca to try and help with video editing.

Shaun mock huffed, moving away from the two working women. Walking over to the bedroom, Shaun slowly opened the door, peeking inside. "Desmond…"

A month without eating or true substance had left Desmond's body thin and weak. Had it not been for Lucy's supplement shots and force feeding from a tube, Desmond would have starved quickly from mental and physical strain. Having watched his friend lay there helplessly for a month slowly deteriorating left a scar over Shaun's heart that opened every time he thought about that near death experience. He questioned whether he wanted Desmond to go back into that blasted machine, but knew that too much was riding on Desmond's unique DNA to simply stop now.

But if he could, Shaun would gladly take Desmond's place. At least then he'd feel that more would get accomplished with as little possible causality as possible. Especially not Desmond.

Later that night, with Lucy collaborating with Rebecca, the girls had managed to remove the blur from the video, and even bring the color back to the images, except for the later parts of the video. They hadn't watched the video, only fast forwarded through it, since neither of them could truly understand Italian. It was would be Shaun's job to take notes on the video and decide if the information could prove useful or not.

Stationed within Desmond's room, Shaun sipped his coffee promptly before opening the file Rebecca had transferred over to him. "This information had better be worth the trouble…" Taking a quick look over his shoulder at Desmond, Shaun concentrated back at the computer screen, taking a deep breath.

"Alright Ezio, what have you been keeping from us?"

_* **Click** *_

________________________________________


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _"Alright Ezio, what have you been keeping from us?"_
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> ***Click!*  
> **  
> _

"Ezio… Ezio…?"

Groaning softly, the assassin's dark brown eyes opened cautiously, only to behold Leonardo's concerned -then relieved- face. Startled by the vividness of his dream in contrast to the placidness of reality, Ezio shot up. Holding onto the back of the couch he was laying on, he looked around sporadically, knuckles turning white.

"Calm down Ezio," Leonardo cooed, kneeling in front of the man. "You're in my workshop. You'd been poisoned shortly after finishing… whatever you did in  _Carnevale_. Sister Terodora brought you here, as well as my mask." The artisan smiled comfortingly, resting his arms on his friend's knees.

"The Sister's… brothel…? So it wasn't a dream." Ezio murmured, looking at his lap to avoid eye contact with his friend, who shifted closer.

"What do you mean a dream? What happened in there?"

Leonardo was asking more questions than he usually did whenever Ezio came by. He just considered himself lucky that he saw Ezio at all, knowing that whatever he did with the weapons that he provided him put his life in danger constantly. But the way Ezio had been convulsing only a few minutes ago instilled great concern in the artisan.

"I-it's… it's nothing Leonardo. I do not want to worry you."

_You always say that, Ezio..._

"If you say so, but Ezio, if there's anything you ever want to talk to me about, I’m here to listen."

_You say that all the time, yet I never take your offer..._

"Well… something… has been happening recently…"

"What is it? Tell me," Perhaps too eagerly, the artisan moved even closer, now positioned between Ezio's legs. Ezio suppressed the urge to gasp, feeling Leonardo squeeze nonchalantly on his thighs.  Then again, he should be used to Leonardo's obliviousness of 'personal space'.

"After _Carnevale_ , I spent the night at Sister's brothel."

"O-oh… I see…" murmured Leonardo, shifting uncomfortable in his squat position. Despite this mental jab to his stomach, Leonardo kept eye contact with Ezio, wishing to hear more.

"And while I was… was being serviced, I… well…"

"What? Did you see God?" joked Leonardo, smiling comfortingly at his friend.

"No… I saw you."

Thinking Ezio had mistaken another man for himself, Leonardo stuttered in response. "W-what? But I was not there, Ezio. I-I'm… not a brothel man. I just know Sister through frequent clients." sputtered the artisan, blinking rapidly.

"No no Leonardo, not physically but… it must have been a hallucination or something, but while I was being serviced, the courtesan who was wearing your mask started to look a lot like you. Even sounded like you."

Shakily assuming that Ezio was still under the influence of poison, Leonardo chuckled half-heartedly. "Well, I do hope that your hallucination did not ruin your time with the ladies."

"No, just the opposite,” Ezio snapped Leonardo’s face to his own, removing the artisan from his light-hearted attitude. “Seeing you instead of that courtesan, it was… Leonardo, I wanted for nothing else after that. And this isn’t the first time; every time I’m in need a bit of physically satisfaction, only your body –your voice- comes to mind.”

_***STATIC!!!FOCUS~STATIC!!FOCUS~~*** _

Leonardo's face turned into an image that Ezio would forever keep in his memories and savor as being the only man to see it. The imaged started with Leonardo da Vinci's eyes, glassy and shiny as a raindrop. Dark blush highlighted his face from his jaws up to his ears. His mouth was agape with surprise, and perhaps embarrassment, his tongue stilled inside. 

_I won't allow anyone else to see him like this. This is my image and mine alone._

Leonardo's grip on Ezio's thighs tightened."Ezio…" the face melted away, if only a little bit, since the artisan's gaze was now more interested in the rug below than Ezio's burning eyes.

_I can't deny what I want as well_

"W-well… as I said, if you ever need anything, you can ask me. If you're… more sated by men than you are with women, then I don't see why I can't help you with such desires. I wouldn't want you to get any diseases, and I know that I am free of them—"

"Wait… Leonardo, are you offering me what I think you are?"

The face returned with vengeance, causing Ezio to still his breath. "Leonardo… I can't take that offer. You help me so much already and I give so little in return."

"That's not true, Ezio," whispered the artisan, lifting up and forward, removing more and more space between them. "Just knowing you're safe and alive when you come and visit me gives me great gratification. I would be flattered if you used me as a partner."

"You… really mean that?" The assassin outstretched his gloved hand, brushing it against Leonardo's burning cheeks. In turn, he nuzzled it, even daring to nibble on a leather hide finger, the brown clashing with his white teeth sexily.

"Yes. To know that you'd use me for your pleasures only is another honor I'll eagerly take."

Without much more deliberation, Ezio nodded in resolve, his charming smile pulling at his cheeks. "I'll lay with you and only you, even if I just feel like coming by. You can see me more often this way as well."

Those raindrop eyes gained a new caliber of shine as Leonardo kissed Ezio's palm. "Then it's a deal. I get to see you more often and you are properly sated."

"There is... one thing that I'd like for us to do while we are…" the assassin cleared his throat in mild embarrassment, causing Leonardo to chuckle warmly.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Could you… wear the mask?"

"Oh?" After little thought, Leonardo grabbed for the mask that had been laying on a few inches away on the couch and slipped it on, his persona almost completely changing from a cutie-pie to mysterious noble, those sharp blue eyes clashing handsomely with the mask's color.

" _il mio piacere_ , Ezio Auditore…"

_* **FIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ** *_

"I always did wonder what the hell happened to that mask Ezio had switched out. Heh, quite the story to tell in the morning." Shaun chuckled, shaking his head.

It was no surprise to the team that Ezio and Leonardo had some sort of spark together, most of which was hidden within the subtle ways that they spoke, looked, and responded to each other.

_So I can soundly dub this last piece of memory from Ezio useless. Nothing tactical about this besides how to make it with courtesans and still want a man in the morning. Oh, what's this? More memories, more footage? But not from Ezio… what?! The animus wasn't programmed to look into Altair's memories when it 'crashed' so why is there footage from Altair's past_

Looking back over to Desmond's form briefly, as if he had the answer, Shaun shook his head and took hold of a notebook he'd left next to his, now cold, coffee. "I'm rusty with Arabic, but I should be able to watch this as well. So, Altair, even a man of your stoicism has secrets? Let's watch them, shall we? Hopefully it'll be better than Ezio's; that memory wasn't all that worth hiding…"

But even Shaun didn't believe himself in that context. The look that Leonardo gave Ezio the instance that he admitted sexually feelings for the man was enough to give the Brit bodily shivers and Goosebumps. He could understand why Ezio would want to hold onto that memory and never allow anyone else to see Leonardo like that.

_Such intimacy between two best friends, such protectiveness over something as seemingly insignificant as a face… We truly are no different from our ancestors._

_***CLICK!*** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Such intimacy between two best friends, such protectiveness over something as seemingly insignificant as a face… We truly are no different from our ancestors
> 
>  
> 
> ***click***

“You weren’t downwind enough.”

“I’ll not have you patronizing me. You found me out of sheer luck.”

“Not luck. Skill.”

Malik scowled at his grinning companion after being discovered within a thicket of bushes on the cliffs of Masyaf. They were in the midst of a rank-test, specifically one that challenged the young assassins to use stealth. The goal was to hide from a designated tracker: if caught, the assassin was “exiled” from the game and forced to try for the rank at a later time. The tracker was also being tested, for if he was unable to find anyone by sunset, he’d fail to gain a rank. Although not the tracker for this rank-test, Altair made it a point to stalk Malik during this exercise. In fact, he stalked Malik during every rank-test exercise, just to irritate his companion.

To Altair, it was worth the extra effort if it meant seeing that frown line on Malik’s bottom lip.

“Your _skill_ is going to get us both discovered.”

“That I highly doubt, Malik,” Altair snorted, seating himself in the thicket pocket beside his companion. “especially since it’s Kadar who’s tracking.  I predict that all the hiding assassins will gain a rank by sunset.”

Malik grabbed a handful of Altair’s robes, teeth grinding. “How dare you speak of my brother like he’s some common Novice. Both he and I are right behind you in rank, and much ahead of you in terms of intelligence. I shall not sit here and listen to you demean him.” He hissed in a hushed manner. 

_There’s that frown line_

Altair looked straight into the man’s hooded eyes, keeping his face as straight as possible despite his inner mirth dancing about. “You and I both know that your brother is a horrible tracker.  When assigned assassination targets, he tends to take days at a time in locating them.  And then allows targets to escape due to his poor stalking. He may be near your rank, but he is a lowly Novice in my eyes and should be in yours.”

_Why must you always be right?!_

With a silent huff, Malik shoved Altair, turning his back to him. “If you’re going to harass me with your pompous attitude, relieve me of your presence this instant. I may be discovered by Kadar while arguing with you.”

The other opened his mouth to rebuttal only to suddenly still his body.  “What are y—” Altair moved behind Malik, covering his mouth before the lower ranked could utter another word. “Silence…” he murmured, lips flushed against Malik’s ear.

The two sat motionless as Kadar’s footsteps grew near. Altair could hear the tracker’s sigh right outside their bush. “I swore I saw Altair move to this location.”

Altair felt Malik shift uncomfortably against his body, trying to move deeper into the bush so as not to be discovered. Altair smirked against his companion’s ear, his inner mirth no longer containable after Malik’s unintentional nudge to his crotch. “Why don’t you call out to him? Let him find us so he’ll, at the least, be promoted.” His warm, intrusive breath lapped at his ear, causing Malik's eyes to roll into the back of his head.

He could not answer back, not with Kadar just at arm’s length and Altair’s hand over his mouth. His hands clutched Altair’s legs in distress as his imposing companion continued to taunt him. “Shout. Scream. Moan. Anything to alert him.” Altair murmured as his teeth clamped over Malik’s burning ear and his free hand nestled between his thighs. Malik’s breath hitched as Altair rubbed playfully through his thin robes, stirring his arousal.

“Nmmm!” he groaned against Altair’s hand, his breathing growing raspy in the man’s palm. His body wriggled against Altair’s touch as his assaulter's coarse fingers fondled his cock, applying smooth, strong strokes. Using his teeth, Altair pulled Malik’s hood back, wanting to behold the man’s face. Tilting Malik’s head sideways, Altair’s sucked in a sharp breath at what he witnessed.

_**STAAATICFIZZZZFOCUS~!** _

Malik’s chocolate brown eyes, misty and hazed with lust, singed into Altair’s mind with an intensity that he would never forget.  The possibility of being discovered excited Malik beyond what words could convey, yet frightened him that his precious brother might find him compromised so sexually. “Altair…” Malik managed past his companion’s palm, slipping one of Altair’s fingers into his mouth. The point of resistance was well behind him.

_No one else shall ever gaze upon you like this._

Altair quickened his strokes, groaning softly as Malik’s hips rolled into his hand as well as his crotch. Their bodies squirmed together soundlessly, nothing hinting to their position besides soft pants, the ruffling of their robes, and the raunchy slurping of Malik’s lips around Altair’s middle finger.

“I guess he’s not around here.” Kadar groaned in irritation, still in front of the bush thicket in hopes of hearing the tiniest noise to stalk.

The two hiding assassins were near oblivious to the younger’s presence now, Altair too indulged in Malik’s pleasure.  His companion was close; he could feel it in his hand and promptly picked up his pace. Malik’s hips ground harder into Altair’s grip, the bruising clasp on his molester’s thighs causing Altair to groan hungrily in his ear. “Lose yourself, my Brother.” He growled, biting down on the same ear.

However, Malik held himself in, even as his hips started to jerk in intervals that caused Altair to wonder if the man was suffering from muscle spasms. His breathing snagged in his throat, wanting so desperately to cum, but unwilling to have his brother discover him like this. Unwilling, yet enthralled by the possibility.

“Better move to another area.”

With the comforting sound of Kadar’s remote footsteps, Malik released with a throaty groan, his toes curling and head thrown back against Altair’s shoulder. The assaulter smirked against his neck, taking a strong lick underneath his jaw as he squeezed every bit from Malik's organ. “Not a sound. I’m impressed.” Altair chortled tauntingly as he started to remove his finger from Malik’s mouth…

… but not before he chomped over a knuckle, biting so hard that Altair wailed, jumping out of the bush thicket while holding his potentially broken finger. Malik smirked hauntingly from his hidden position as his brother came running over to Altair, victory gleaming in his eyes.

“I knew I heard something in this area. EXILED!” he shouted, grinning with glee.

Altair snarled at Malik and retreated, even though he knew that outrunning Kadar at this point was fruitless. But even as he was pinned and “assassinated” by the younger assassin, he couldn't help but smile underneath his hood. He knew that within the bush thicket, Malik was resting with his cheeks flushed horribly and his lips stained with blood. That knowledge was enough to ease the pain of his bruised ego.

**

“Never… would have guessed that.” Shaun looked from his notes back to the video, astonished by what he’d just witnessed. Never would he have imaged Altair and Malik ever having any sort of intimate relationship, even if this memory was earlier in Altair’s life.

 _Those two argued like hormonal teenagers, yet somewhere inside, they harbored their special brand of passion for one other_.

Once again, Shaun looked to Desmond’s unconscious body. His cheeks lifted in a small, tender smile, able to relate to Altair and Malik’s relationship. However, there was nothing else that the Arabic assassin’s memory offered Shaun except nostalgia.  _I can deem this memory useless as well, unless Desmond ever wishes to molest a side target without fear of being interrupted…  I won’t allow that to be left for discussion_. Reaching out to tap the ‘stop’ button on his computer, Shaun ceased upon catching a glimpse of yet another memory about to unfold.

“W-what’s left to see…?”

The memory was much more polished and static-free than the others, hinting towards a much earlier origin.  It was when his own image appeared that Shaun sat straight up in his chair in realization. _Me?! What in the world; what memory is this… unless these aren’t memories at all.  Have these been locked memories that I’ve been watching, or memorized dreams conjured up by these men?_   Shaun paused the video, suddenly concerned that he was about to peer into a fantasy of Desmond’s that he would regret later. What was so precious to Desmond that he’d locked it away into his memories as ancestral DNA? What was so outlandish, so taboo, that perhaps Desmond had to lock it away so that he could never act on it?

The same could be true for Ezio and Altair. Maybe those secret memories weren’t truly memories, but fantasies of their passions unleashed upon those they cared about most.  Perhaps Ezio’s deepest fantasy was to pleasure his best friend while wearing _Carnevale_  masks, while Altair wished for more simple days when it might had been easier to expression his lust to his former friendly rival.

Shaun to press the ‘play’ button, crossing his arms and legs as if to steel himself for whatever may cross his computer screen.

_What’s so sinister and forbidden that you can’t even tell your lover, Desmond?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _What’s so sinister and forbidden that you can’t even tell your lover, Desmond?_

The room was drenched in black. It wasn’t safe for electronics to be on in the safe house during the night, especially with the newest safe house being deep in Templar territory; the city.  Lucy had sworn up and down that it was still alright to rest there, but precautions had to be taken, and one of those was a complete blackout at night.

No computers.

No digital clocks.

Not even candles.

Everything had to be shut off.  Shaun didn’t mind all that much; he got his best rest in the dark. Desmond, however, was unsettled by just how dark it was, especially with the windows blocking out the city glow.  Not even the buzz of the urban night life seeped through high rise condo’s walls.  Thus his nightly ritual began.  Around 2am near every night since moving to the new safe house, Desmond would slip into Shaun’s room and settle beside him. The gentle snoring that escaped the Brit’s mouth comforted Desmond enough that he could get some rest.

It wasn’t entirely abnormal to Shaun; they were lovers. It was the job of both of them to comfort and protect each other. But… this night was especially strange for a number of reasons. For one, it was 3am when Desmond decided to slip into the inky darkness of his room to lay beside him.  Two, Shaun found himself relatively awake, not snoring. Three—

“A-aah! Desmond! Keep your hands off me; it’s too late at night for such behavior.” He silently growled, half heartedly elbowing Desmond, who grunting softly, but only moved closer, his arms slipping around Shaun’s waist.  The Brit bit his lip as Desmond’s warm palms rested against his bare chest and against his naval, his body reawakening under the familiar warmth.

“I’m sorry but… it’s been weeks since we’ve had sex.”

“Well, it’s been weeks since we moved into this dark little corner. And you know the house rules; no loud noises at night.”

“It’ll be quiet since I bet you moan pretty softly.”

The room was unsettlingly quiet for five solid seconds before Shaun looked over his shoulder, his eyebrow raised accusingly.

“What exactly are you getting at, Desmond?”

He scooted closer, his chest flushed against his lover’s back, chin propped on Shaun’s chin to give his cheek a sneaky kiss. “Shaun…”

“Desmond, I swear if it’s what I think it is…”

“Shaun, please…?”

“If you even THINK of asking that of me…”

“Shaun, why not?”

The Brit silenced once again, turning his head away to half bury it in his pillow.  Desmond chuckled, stroking Shaun’s stomach dearly as his lips fluttered about his beloved’s bare shoulder, moving about the crook of his neck to rest over his ear.

“Let me be on top tonight, Shaun.” He murmured, breath stroking and cupping the Brit’s ear like a perfect pair of earmuffs. It took all mental restraint to resist the heavy groan that threatened to dance from Shaun’s throat, thus he remained coarse and steely; the question remained unanswered.  Desmond, however, remained stubborn and persistent.

“Shaun… please, don’t shut me out like this. I need you so badly.”

_Why do you do this whenever I ask?_

Still no reply. Desmond suckled over his neck desperately, trying to stir some reaction, **some**  sign that Shaun, at least, wished for a sexual encounter. He couldn’t take the abstinence any longer, especially with his nightly ritual putting him in the same bed as his partner night after night.

_Why do you keep asking me?_

But despite Desmond’s efforts to raise Shaun’s arousal, all Desmond could feel upon groping was a limp, cold, sleeping extension, not the pulsing, phallic cock he knew it could become. Disappointed, and highly embarrassed, the assassin trainee heaved against the man’s neck and pulled away, sitting up on the bed. Shaun unnoticeably curled up, his skin missing Desmond’s hands already… but he wasn’t going to verbalize this.

“Sorry Shaun.  I shouldn’t have pushed you. Heh, guess I’m just be hormonal.”

_No that’s not it._

“But… sometimes I feel that the only time that you show me affection is when we have sex.”

_It’s not your fault, Desmond, that I…_

“And when we do have sex, you’re always screwing me, so I still feel… used. And whenever I ask for a bit of change and you close up, I feel… awkward.  And I shouldn’t feel this way when asking someone I love.”

_Desmond…_

Shaun flinched when he heard Desmond scoff. “Whatever, you’re probably not even listening to me at this point.” Unwilling to stay in the same area as his insufferable lover, the trainee slid from between the covers, padding over to the door.

“Desmond, wait!”

He froze midway to grasping the doorknob, and turned around. “What is it now Sha—”

_**STTTTATICFOUS!** _

“Holy…”

There Shaun sat, posed up right on the bed, staring back at Desmond.  What little light that managed to wiggle through the windows magnified what Desmond was already spotted in the Brit’s eyes: vulnerability.  Those eyes, usually so strong and focused, seemed glassy and uncertain, and scared.  And those lips, usually as tight and precise as his words, were loose, moist, and quivering.

“Desmond. Don’t leave.” Even the tone of his voice was soaked in a sense of defenselessness despite the short and curt snap of the words.

Desmond absorbed his lover’s demeanor, noting all the signs that Shaun gave including the most important one.  The trainee smirked as he made out the outline of his lover’s previously sleeping member against the covers. He wanted it, but was scared of the path Desmond wished to take. Or was it not just this sexual path, but all paths to which he had to follow and not lead?

_Are you afraid to trust me?_

Desmond stalked back over to the bed, sliding in front of Shaun, whom shifted, allowing his partner to hover over his body, dominate and overbearing. “Just this once.”  His body contradicted his words: his eyes remained glassy, his lips still quivered despite being pinned between his teeth, and his skin rose with goospbumps. Desmond even noticed Shaun’s hands flexing into fist around the sheets underneath.

_Are you that afraid to trust me?_

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t w—”

“Let’s just start before I change my mind!” Shaun snapped, eyes darting away from Desmond in a… surprisingly cute manner.  So cute, in fact, the snippity nature of his words that usually wounded Desmond only made him smile.

_You can trust me, Shaun, in bed and out._

“Y-you better be a good top, Desmond.” Shaun huffed, releasing the sheets to rest his hands precariously on his lover’s shoulders.

The Brit received a tender, yet surprisingly strong, kiss, in response, causing him to gasp between their lips. His mouth parted, Desmond’s tongue eagerly and easily darted between Shaun’s teeth, twirling and stroking about his partner’s—

_**STTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTATIC!!!** _

“W-… what?”

Shaun stared; mouth a gap and glasses perched on the very edge of his nose. Had the video suddenly stopped working? Or was this the end of the collected data?  Or had Desmond been taken out of the Animus the moment this secret fantasy was being recorded from his mind? Or perhaps…

_He can’t even fully fantasize about me being bottom, even though he wants it._

Shaun remembered when they had to stay in New York for a short time in hiding, and he remembered the pitch black nights and the ‘no sex’ rule that Lucy had enforced to keep them safe. He remembered his and Desmond’s hushed sessions in that addictive darkness of his room at 2am at night, the trainee’s whimpers and cries muffled effectively into a pillow or Shaun’s mouth. But Shaun never would have guessed Desmond, throughout that month, wanted to take him for a change . The trainee never spoke of it, never even hinted about taking him, but perhaps, like his fantasy revealed, he was afraid of being rejected or afraid to push Shaun into a corner to which he might not rebound from.

Desmond didn’t want to alienate him, but still wanted to make love to him. It’d become a taboo in his mind, a desire locked deep in the recesses of his mind and imprinted as ancestral DNA.

Shutting his mouth, Shaun unceremoniously tapped his computer ‘Off’ as his head turned around for the uptenth time, the screen turning black, rendering the bedroom as ghostly dark as it was in Desmond’s fantasy. There he lay, thin and crippled, unable to help himself, much less Shaun, if anything was to happen. Though Shaun now knew Desmond wanted nothing more that for him to trust him like Desmond did to keep him safe during times of vulnerability. It was true, Shaun was taught to only depend on his fellow assassins, but even then, to rely mostly on himself for support. Was Desmond assuming that his unwillingness to trust anyone completely was spilling into their sex life?

Sitting next to Desmond, Shaun stroked his lover’s soft downy hair, fingertips trailing down his strong, round jaws and over his chapped, scared lip. He shook his head, smiling sadly at his condition. “You can’t even help yourself most of the time, you fucking twat.”

Waterworks fighting their way into Shaun’s eyes, he hung his head in a small effort to compose his swelling emotions as his hand shook against Desmond’s face. “You wake up from this… I swear I’ll give you something to fantasize about, damn it. Hell, I’ll let you take me as often as you wish. Just… get out of this alive…”

Unbeknownst to him, the tears still spilled, if only two of them, landing on Desmond’s lips. A few seconds later, a surprisingly deep murmur escaped the cadaver-like figure that was Shaun’s lover.

"Taste... just like I thought...”

Startled, if not scared shitless by his words, Shaun’s gasped for breath, unable to decide to throttle Desmond for scaring him, kiss him passionately for being awake, or yell at him to demand how long he’d been awake for. In the end, he simple gave a wobbly smile, touching Desmond’s, now moist, lips.

“You damn liar; you can’t even fantasize me being submissive in bed, let alone thinking about my tears, you nasty sod.”

“H-how… Did you know that?” rose another raspy, dry moan, seemingly forced.

“I’ll tell you later. But, for now, just rest. Please.”

**Author's Note:**

> Completed April 2nd 2010  
> Re-posted to AO3


End file.
